"Just the ones who've saved my life at least once." Taking her by the elbow, Austin steered Gina toward the open double doors of a conference room. "Granted, Wake can be overly cocky, but he does an excellent job."
"Yes," she snarked. "I was quite impressed with his ability to open doors and use a turn indicator."
And ridicule me with those knowing eyes.
"He's a bodyguard, baby." Austin closed the doors, his gaze betraying the good natured tone of his words. "And I pray you'll never have to find out just how good he is."
The hard stare and the fact that she was alone with Austin for the first time in weeks stiffened Gina's spine. When he started to approach, she took a few steps backward until her bottom hit the edge of the long conference table. With no room left to retreat, she folded her arms across her chest and tried to stop his advance with an annoyed glare.
"Why are you here?" Remembering that several staff members were present in the outer office, she satisfied the urge to yell her question with the sharp arch of a lifted brow.
Her right toe tapped against the polished floor in a much needed release of energy. She tried to stop the impatient beat but, as so often happened when she was around Austin, her body refused to obey her commands.
Grinning, he stepped closer. As he answered, his head tilted to the side, his gaze zeroed in on the pulse in Gina's throat.
"I'm thinking of investing. There will be dozens across the globe—every major city."
Her lips mashed together. When he reached forward, his fingers uncurling to brush against the same spot he had just visually inspected, she scrabbled backward and found herself unintentionally sitting on the conference table.
"You," he said, following after her so that his lower body pushed against her pressed knees. "You’re here to give me a second opinion."
Casting a quick glance behind her, Gina calculated the distance she'd have to crawl to reach the opposite side of the table. Before she could finish her estimate, Austin dragged her onto her feet, his hard cock making its presence felt through layers of clothing as it rubbed against the lower curve of her stomach.
"On the environmental report?" she snapped. "Beach erosion, maybe?"
He pushed closer. One of Austin's big hands skimmed over her hip. The other locked around her waist, keeping her balanced as he reached behind her and grabbed something off the table. Another deft move and he had her ass planted in a chair that he pointed at a large, flat screen television. His hand swung into view as he aimed a remote at the TV and pressed play.
Willing the flood of need between her legs to abate, she gripped the arms of the chair and tried to focus on the screen as Austin retrieved a set of headphones. She unclenched her fists long enough to snatch them from his hands and slam them down on her head.
Words scrolled across the screen, along with images of other resorts in other countries. A woman's voice ear fucked her through the headphones. She had a few seconds to think the husky rasp was entirely inappropriate for a corporate sales pitch before the images bled from the vibrant exteriors to richly decorated interiors.
Her thoughts flashed back to the first time she met Austin Long at Boudrot's estate and the way the idyllic architecture of the antebellum period hid the kinky secrets of the homeowner and his privileged guests.
Soft moans beat against her ears as the female narrator described the benefits of membership in something called Century Club. The moans took form on screen as a woman allowed herself to be strapped down to a table and a man proceeded to cut away her clothes and…
Ripping the headphones away, Gina jumped to her feet. Her fingers curled around the lapel of Austin's suit before remembering the man was a solid wall of steel. His hand wrapped around her wrist, the grip tightening just enough to ensure she wouldn't attempt to twist away.
He didn't say anything, just stared at her face, the angry quiver of her mouth, the spark of outrage in her eyes. When she could no longer stand the silence, she slapped her other palm against his hard chest.
"You brought me here to watch a damn porno?"
His responding chuckle fueled her fury. Raising her arm, she tried to offset the leverage his height gave him and rotate out of his grip. He used her motion against her, turning until he had her back pressed against his chest and his arms were wrapped around her.
His mouth dropped to ghost against the curve of her neck with his hot, moist breath.
"You have your excuses," he said with a gentle nip at her flesh. "I have mine."
She didn't have to ask him what he meant. For two months he had been trying to reel her back into his bed. She had avoided all but the business meetings and tried to limit those with the need to study for her upcoming bar exam or urgent work on the Skipjack expansion.
"You explicitly stated I don't have to sleep with you to keep the job," she reminded him. She forced herself to stop struggling against his embrace. She couldn't risk all that rubbing and twisting against Austin's hard body. He already had her pussy squeezing with the memory of his thick cock.
Drooling, too, she thought as she felt a fresh damp spot spreading along the gusset of her panties.
"And I'm not stating otherwise." His tongue trailed up her neck to flick at the small hollow behind her earlobe. "You're here to work. I need advice on a very delicate deal, one I need to be firmly sold on before I seek the assistance of other advisors, ones who won't have the same experience with the subject matter as you do, Miss Banks."
A growl erupted from her throat, the sound instantly cut off as Austin cupped her mound through her skirt and gave a hard squeeze.
"Are you saying you have no experience, baby?" He gave another hard squeeze. "Do you need me to remind you?"
"No," she whispered. She remembered every touch, every climax. She would never admit it, but he haunted her dreams. She woke to wet sheets, her hands between her legs, rubbing as she moaned his name. She wished like hell it wasn't true, but it was. The best she could hope for was that he would never find out how deeply their two encounters had affected her.
If he knew, he would use it to bend her to his will. She would not allow herself to be malleable—not for Long or any other man.
"Good," he said, releasing her from his embrace. He stepped around her, his finger stroking the underside of her chin until she looked up at him. "We'll return to the outer office to wait for Dylan and Jake Kehoe. When they arrive, someone will escort you to your room for the night..."
Her room or their room?
Seeing the question burning behind Gina's lips, Austin shook his head as a warning not to ask.
"You'll examine the promotional materials that have already been delivered to the suite while I have a private meeting with the men and a tour of the facilities," he continued. "Then you'll dress for dinner in the gown I've provided."
"What happens if I don't?" she asked, her shoulders twitching with each syllable like the tail of a rattlesnake.
"You're free to find out," he answered with a smile and a brief shrug. "That is, if you're too afraid to discover what happens if you do."
11
A high pressure blast of cold water bit at the skin on Gina's back.
Her body tensed at first contact but she didn't move to turn the hot water on. As cliché as standing beneath the unforgiving stream of cold felt, her flesh burned and would continue to do so until something else replaced the thoughts running through her head. And if she caught pneumonia, it would be her own damn fault because she had allowed Austin to taunt her into reviewing the investment portfolio and all the promotional materials for a string of sex clubs in the world's richest cities.
Sex clubs and kinked-out VIP suites...
"Don't go there," she warned herself, tilting her face up for a fresh blast of liquid ice that did nothing to distract her from the last few hours of reading and watching.
She had started her review with the video, hoping that she would have plenty of time afterwards to compose herself before Austin's return while
reading through the investment portfolio.
Her plan had been a solid plan and could have worked. Certainly the words used in the portfolio were well within her comfort zone, paragraph after paragraph talking about yields (no pun intended), risk exposure (still no pun intended) and the like. But the Kehoe brothers or their marketing team had strategically integrated pictures into the brochure that had nothing to do with yields and everything to do with yielding.
Tasteful shots, of course—the entire endeavor was aimed at high class domination and submission. But their tactics in putting the promotional and investment materials together, albeit obvious, were designed to have potential investors reading with only one hand and less than half a brain.
So there she was, beneath a faucet head, cold water raining down on her feverish flesh and a throbbing between her legs that she couldn't wash away.
Hissing through her teeth, Gina gave the handle a sharp twist, ending the icy spray. She opened the shower, stepped out and snatched an oversized towel to wrap around her body. Words her mother or Granny Banks most definitely wouldn't approve of tumbled from her mouth as she wrapped a second towel around her thick, black hair and opened the side door on the bathroom that led to the bedroom.
For the three hours she'd been alone in the suite, Gina hadn't entered the room. She had stayed in the outer area with its sofas and desks and conference/dining table even though she had seen no evidence that her bags and portfolio case had been delivered to the suite. She had just assumed that a hotel like the Charlemagne didn't make mistakes and she would find her things waiting for her in the suite's bedroom.
She didn't want to step foot in there. Didn't want to see the special additions to the room the brochures promised or the gown Austin had picked out for her or the bed he expected her to fuck him on.
That last thought triggered an involuntary laugh and a shake of her head. Whatever fucking Austin intended, he would be the one driving. Unlike the admittedly few lovers she had taken to bed before him, Austin wasn't the kind to lazily sit back and expect her to please him.
Knowing just how much time and effort he was prepared to expend to make Gina come repeatedly, her gaze went to the king-size bed first. Perfectly normal looking except the base had drawers on it. Stepping closer, she inched one bare foot toward a drawer handle, hooked it with her toes and eased it open.
The compartment held an assortment of small bottles filled with liquids and more condoms in different varieties than a combat battalion would go through on a Friday night. She flicked her big toe, knocking one of the bottles onto its side so she could read the label.
A gentle, warming lube...
She rolled her eyes then pushed the drawer shut. “Gee, how classy—not!"
Curiosity tugged her toward the next drawer. Paddles, floggers, some sort of wand with attachments.
She slammed the drawer shut, her heart hammering inside her chest. Turning back toward the bathroom door and the clothes she had arrived in, Gina froze. She had somehow walked right past the outfit Austin had delivered—and the St. Andrews cross some wiseass had used to hang it on. On the floor, her overnight bag, shoes to match the dress, a boutique box and, haphazardly leaning against the cross, her portfolio stuffed with the Skipjack presentation.
Cheeks burning, she snatched the portfolio up and placed it on the bed. Leaning over to unzip the case, she lost the towel covering her head and had to grab quickly to keep from losing the one wrapped around her body.
Cursing, she made sure her hands were dry then began sorting through the presentation. Whitley had rushed her out of his office after a call from Hong Kong had been patched through and then Wake had hustled her to the limo. Of course, she no longer felt like the meeting had been anything other than a ruse to get her to Miami and the hotel suite.
Not another soul in Long's company cared about the seven thousand families in the parish or how their livelihood, so much of it based on shrimp and shellfish, was endangered by the expansion. No one cared about the Delta National Wildlife Refuge or how it would take just one small failure to have every last bird coated in crude oil.
Closing the portfolio, Gina turned to the dress. Taking it from the hanger, she inspected it more closely. Sporting a Gucci label, the fabric was a dark emerald velvet with a leopard print. The neckline plunged halfway down her stomach and the long skirt split up to just a few inches below the top of her thigh. Almost the exact shade of the dress she had been wearing when she met Austin, Gina doubted the color was a coincidence.
Austin wanted to remind her that she had already surrendered to him—not just once, but multiple times on two separate days.
She surrendered to him every night in her sleep, too. But that was a fact she would take to her grave before letting him find out.
"Baby, your face looks like that dress is covered in fleas."
Hearing Austin's voice, Gina spun around. Her feet caught on her overnight bag. One hand reaching for the cross to steady herself, she dropped the dress. Her other hand moved to secure the towel shielding her from Austin's hungry gaze.
Grinning, he plucked the gown from the floor and placed it carefully on the bed next to her open portfolio. Austin trailed his fingers over the map she had shuffled to the front.
"Whitley was impressed with your—"
"Don't!" she snapped and pushed past him to retrieve the portfolio. Too big to lift with one hand while she clutched the towel to her with the other, Gina only managed to push the case up the bed.
Austin molded his fingers around her hips, bringing her to an immediate stop.
"I thought you wanted me to take an interest..." His words trailed off as Gina gave up the fight with her towel and let it fall to the ground as she turned to face him.
"Real interest," she corrected, her anger making her forget that she was naked and he had his hands on her. "Not a farce to get me to some kind of fuck hotel."
"Fuck resort," he corrected as his hands moved upward, brushing the sides of her waist and skimming the slope of her breast before taking possession of her shoulders. "I can't decide when you're lovelier, Gina. When you're this furious with me—or when my cock is in you and you’re crying out my name."
"You," she said, pushing at the hard muscles of his abdomen in an effort to get him to back up. "You tell me right now that I don't have to sleep with you to keep control of Skipjack."
Seeing the sly curve of his mouth, she gave another rough push.
"Don't even think about getting tricky." She slapped at his arms as his hands slid to join behind her back and trap her in a loose circle. "By 'sleep' I mean 'fuck.'"
His fingertips surfed down her spine, leaving a trail of flesh bumps in their wake. His palms pressed warmly against her ass cheeks and then he took firm hold of her flesh. She felt the rumble of a low growl in his chest as he cinched her tighter, his cock erect and pushing against her stomach.
"You keep forgetting how wet you get around me, Miss Banks." His lips brushed her ear. One hand darted up to tangle in her damp hair. He forced a bend in her neck then sealed his lips against her skin.
The first rough suck reminded Gina of his mouth on her pussy. Her legs began to shake with need, but she refused to surrender. She worked a hand up between them, three of her long nails coming to a rest against his cheek.
"Answer me," she demanded.
His chuckle almost sent her over the edge and into a homicidal rage.
"The contract you signed required more than environmental compliance work. You're on call for advising on all corporate and investment matters, baby. With whatever site visits I need you to make that don't conflict with your studies for the bar exam."
Releasing her all at once, he retrieved the dress and pushed it into her slack hands.
"So you will finish reviewing what the Charlemagne has to offer. Am I clear on that?"
His gaze had grown dangerously narrow. She knew she was walking a fine line by trying to stay within the contract and keep control of Skipjack witho
ut succumbing to her body's needs or Austin's cleverly concealed demands.
Snatching the dress, she glared at him. "A little free advice: stick to willing wo—"
The snark died in her throat as she watched his nostrils flare and his eyes drift shut. He was scenting her, his tongue snaking out to confirm her arousal with a taste of the air. Just as slowly as they had closed, his eyes snapped open.
Austin's gaze trailed down to her mound.
She had lost track of his hands, but she felt the presence of one. A finger pressed against the dark curls shielding her pussy. A sliding stroke and then he raised the finger to his lips, licked it and closed his eyes once more.
"That's not water beading down there, baby." When he looked at her again, victory danced in his gaze. "We'll see how you feel after the performance."
Taking her by the shoulders, Austin turned Gina toward the bathroom door then gave her bottom a light slap. "Time to hustle your sweet ass into that dress because, if you stay naked, I can't promise I won't show you right now what a lovely little liar you are."
She couldn't get her feet to move—not until Austin started counting down from three. When he hit "one," she ran like hell for the bathroom and locked the door.
12
Gina's fingers toyed with the bottom strand of a tiered necklace of jade beads as she took a seat in the audience of the Century Club's main room. Austin had pulled the necklace from the suite's safe after Gina had finally screwed up enough courage to exit the bathroom.
While she had been squeezing her curves into the body hugging Gucci dress and taking care of her hair and makeup for as long as she thought she could stall him, Austin had changed from his expensive silk business suit into...
Something that made her ovaries drop to her pelvic floor.
Squirming in her chair, she cut a fresh glance in his direction as he sat down next to her. He wore a silk dress shirt in deep indigo, the color emphasizing the steel blue of his eyes. The top two buttons were undone and the sleeves cuffed to just below his elbow—both displays of flesh confirming the finely sculpted body beneath the clothing. Black dress boots peeked from beneath black leather pants that had just enough give to fuel the imagination of any woman who hadn't seen him naked.
Tempted By Trouble Page 5